Historical Fiction
by Singing Violin
Summary: Post-endgame, an upset Kathryn visits Chakotay.


Title: Historical Fiction  
Series: Star Trek: Voyager  
Rating: T  
Summary: Post-Endgame, an upset Kathryn visits Chakotay.  
Disclaimer: Not mine  
Archiving: Anywhere  
Feedback: Please  
Author's note: Inspired by the panning of one of my stories by one of my friends.

With trepidation, Chakotay answered the knock at his door. Who could be calling at this late hour?

A moment later, he boggled at the sight of his former captain, dressed in civilian clothes and bare feet, sopping wet. Her dress appeared rather fancy, though the rainwater had essentially ruined it.

Torn between the desire to laugh and cry at her pathetic appearance, he quickly ushered her inside.

"Where are your shoes?" he asked.

She peered up at him. "My feet were starting to hurt," she admitted, raising her hand to reveal that she'd been carrying her admittedly non-sensible shoes. Chakotay wondered briefly whether he'd ever seen her in stiletto heels.

"Kathryn, did you walk here?" he queried, sitting her down on the couch, carefully placing a towel beneath her so that she wouldn't ruin the upholstery. He then took a second towel and rubbed her with it, attempting to dry her off.

She didn't answer. It was then that he noticed her eyes were red and puffy, as if she'd been crying. He moved towards her as if to hug her, but she pushed him away. "Is Seven here?" she asked meekly.

He frowned. "No, of course not. She hasn't been here in months. I can probably find her, though, if you'd like to speak to her."

She shook her head. "No, I thought you two would still be…" Her voice trailed off.

He chuckled then. "We broke up shortly after _Voyager_ got home," he informed her. "I thought you would have heard."

She gulped. "I guess I haven't really been in touch."

He sighed, sitting down beside her. He snaked an arm around her shoulders, and this time she did not resist.

"What's wrong?" he prompted.

"Does something have to be wrong to want to v-visit an old f-friend?" she responded, evading the question.

"Gods, Kathryn, you're chilled!" he observed, jumping off the couch and running into the kitchen, returning with a steaming cup of coffee.

She grabbed it gratefully, moaning slightly as she sipped.

"Now," he continued, standing over her, "you're going to tell me what's bothering you. I haven't seen you since we got home, and the Kathryn Janeway I know would never show up at my doorstep looking like a drowned rat unless something was very, very wrong."

She shook her head. "It's stupid," she objected. "You wouldn't understand."

He knelt then, placing a hand upon her knee. "Try me."

Looking up, she met his eyes, even as a tear ran down her cheek. He reached forward and wiped it away.

"They hated it," she finally admitted, sobbing slightly.

"Hated what?" he asked, completely baffled.

She put the mug down on the coffee table and raised her hands to her face as the tears began to fall more quickly. "My book," she mumbled. "They hated it," she repeated.

He grabbed her hands, pulling them away from her face, and she lowered her eyes.

"I'm sure you must be mistaken," he assured her, "I've read your reports. You're a wonderful writer. I haven't had a chance to read it yet, but I saw the advertisement a few days ago, was going to go pick myself up a copy."

"Well," she responded, "you needn't bother. It's crap."

"No, I want to," he insisted, "I'm sure I'll enjoy it. What did they complain about?"

She reclaimed her hands from his and waved them nonchalantly. "Oh, lots of things. Mostly, they thought it was boring. Not enough romance. As if the Kazon, Vidiians, and Borg aren't exciting enough! And I did mention our one on-board wedding, and even your relationship with Seven."

He gulped. "You mentioned Seven and me?"

She stared at him. "Well, it happened, didn't it?"

"Yes, but it was nothing," he argued. "Ended as soon as we got here, as I told you. Not worth mentioning. Honestly, I'm a bit ashamed of it, a woman half my age with the experience of a teenager, at best. I have no idea what I was thinking. Is it possible the critics objected to your story because of that?"

She blinked. "They might have suggested it. But all I did was tell the truth. What more romance did they want?"

"Hmm," he answered coyly, "I wonder whether they were looking for this." With that, he leaned forward and kissed her.

As he pulled back, she stared, momentarily speechless. Finally, she found her voice. "You were my first officer! I thought you understood that!"

He shrugged. "Of course I did. But I'm not anymore. And I'm only saying, perhaps your readers weren't as protocol-conscious as you."

Suddenly, the clouds seemed to part as her face transformed into a watery grin. She pulled him towards her and hugged him tightly.

"Chakotay, you're wonderful," she spoke into his shoulder. "You know just how to cheer me up. You can be very funny when you want to."

His heart sank as he pulled away. "I wasn't joking," he told her. "I really think, if you wanted, there could be something between us. But I guess you're not interested. I think you'd better go. I'll order a transport for you. There's no sense in your walking in the rain, now that I've got you dried off slightly."

She gaped. "I…" After an awkward silence, she continued. "I'm sorry. It's just, I never expected. You were with Seven, and I guess I just gave up hope."

His heart soared. "You were hoping? For us?"

She looked down. "Well, yeah, I guess I was." She looked back up. "Are you telling me you're still interested?"

"Oh, Kathryn!" he cried, pulling her towards him again and kissing her far more passionately than he had the first time.

A moment later, he reached underneath her legs and picked her up, carrying her towards his bedroom. He sat her on the foot of the bed. "Let's get you out of these wet clothes," he said. Mutely, she began to strip.

The next morning, she awoke nestled in his embrace. As she opened her eyes, she realized he was already awake.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," he greeted her, kissing her on the forehead.

"I have the greatest idea!" she responded, quickly crawling out of the bed. He smiled at her energetic, naked form as she scrambled to find something to wear, eventually settling on one of his shirts.

"What's that?" he asked as she put it on.

"I'm going to write a sequel!" she announced triumphantly. "And if my prediction is accurate, there will be plenty of romance of the proper kind to satisfy the masses!"

"I have no doubt of that," he answered. "But you don't need to start writing immediately. Why don't you come back to bed and think about the plot for a while? I'm sure the story will only get better if you wait to write it."

She smiled. "Anything for a good review."


End file.
